#dust car
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Hey there!!
A ton of mlp musicians (some I know personally) came together to make an album of original songs, and I had the honor of making the cover art! All proceeds from the album are going the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund, so please consider checking it out!!
dustcar.bandcamp.com/album/dust-car-lap-of-honor
#oh and I did the cover art!!#dustcar#dust car#dustcar album#mlp fim#mlp art#my little pony#mlp:fim#mlp: friendship is magic#my little pony friendship is magic#my little pony fim#mlp eqg#mlp eg fanart#stars#space aesthetic#space art#artists on tumblr#illustration#kawaii aesthetic#star chart#star chaser#twilight sparkle#pinkie pie#rarity#rainbow dash#applejack#fluttershy#mane 6#stars aesthetic#palestinian children's relief fund
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Love the idea of these 4 going on a double date and it gets chaotic (Husk complained about being the get-away driver but he secretly loved it)
#we're conveniently ignoring that he's turning the steering wheel the wrong way oops#I don't draw cars#just messing around with my art#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanart#huskerdust#cherrisnake#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel sir pentious#hazbin hotel cherri bomb
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And that's why you don't leave your luxury car in an empty underground parking lot, folks.
(Inspired by the works of @itsxroxannex, visual storytelling is a very underrated skill they execute masterfully)
Killer belongs to @/rahafwabas, Dust to @/ask-dusttale, Horror to @/sour-apple-studios, Cross to @/jakei95
#undertale#undertale au#utmv#my art#fanart#digital art#killer sans#horror sans#dust sans#cross sans#it's their lambo now#luxury car#lamborghini#digital painting#murder gang#bad sanses
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Dust is smiling under that hoodie
Dust belongs to Ask-dusttale
Killer belongs to rahafwabas
Horror belongs to horrortalecomic
The guy in the picture is the Intruder from the Mandela Catalogue series on YouTube
In case you can’t read my handwriting:
Killer: Look, this guy totally looks like you!
Killer: *shows a picture of the Intruder*
Horror: Oh yeah, I can totally see the ressemblance!
Dust: I fucking hate you guys
#art#utmv#comic#dust sans#killer sans#horror sans#I thought about this joke in a car ride today#please ignore the fact that I didn’t write ressemblance correctly
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I watched Hasbin with my friend, we complained about some stuff and i ended up making some redesigns probably so far from reality that they could easily be my ocs. But HEY I have been having a lot of fun playing around with their designs, do u ever see a character and ur like "how come ur not a fat man?" That's how i feel about husker. Anyway, enjoy 💕🕷️
#i didn't hate hate it#i feel like there is a lot of un used potential to it that i would love to see it in the second season#like#i cant believe they didn't gave us that scene of angel and penny fighting guys on a street and the the actual fontage of angel carring penny#i got feelings about charlie i love her but she is definitely been neglected as a protagonist#But HEY#dont come at me for wanting more from it 😭😭😭#myart#nvjjarttag#huskerdust#husker hazbin hotel#angel dust#angel dust hazbin hotel#hasbin hotel#hh art#hasbin hotel redesigns
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From November, 2024
#car#Porsche#porsche 911#porsche 911 dakar#dust#rally car#Leica q3 43#Nicholas Kalikow#original photography on tumblr#november 2024
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Hey folks have some huskerdust !! 🕷️♥️
“I know, I know Legs. I just need to ask you something.” Angel’s eyes scrunch closed and the rest of his expression crumples as he whines out, short and low. Husk hovers his hands over the mottling of bruises and cuts that litter his torso, some still sluggishly bleeding. He itches to bandage them up, but stays himself with the sobering thought that Angel is used to guys touching him when he’s unconscious.
“Angel.” He tries again. Angel shakes his head minutely. “-on’t wanna.” He whines.
“Look at me please? I just want to check that it’s okay that I touch you. You know it’s important to me.”
Angel, with a long, juddering sigh, pulls himself from the cusp of sleep and blinks his eyes open. He frowns, glaring a little as he yawns into his hand. Husk waits patiently at his side, knees beginning to ache with being pressed against the hard wooden floor for so long.
“I told ya I don’t care what you do when I come back doped out like this, Whiskers. Not like I’ll remember it. Hah!” His laugh comes out rough, like it hurts to push from his lips. Husk shakes his head.
“And I told you it doesn’t matter if you’ll remember it or not. I’m not going to be another man who takes advantage of you.” He says, carefully enunciating each word so the message gets through.
Angel curses and flops over onto his side which draws his face infinitely closer to Husk’s own. He meets his eyes with a burning, lidded gaze. Husk keeps his posture relaxed, but his tail puffs at the sudden movement.
“Yer a softie, Husk. I don’t think ya could take advantage of me if you wanted to.” The words are coupled with a rickety, slapped on grin. Husk desperately wants to just shake him until he gets it through his big thick head that that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, it matters what he wants. Does he want Husk touching him after an abusive, grueling shoot? That’s what Husk’s asking, not if he ‘trusts’ him. He sighs.
“You didn’t answer my question. Can I touch you? Just give me an answer and then you can go back to sleep. God knows you’ll be needing it.” And it’s true. Who knows what Val has in store for him tomorrow? He’s better off getting all the rest he can get, while he can.
Angel appraises him with a long, considering look. There’s a lot going on behind his eyes and though Husk is aware of the fact of it, he can’t begin to try to fathom what exactly his thoughts are in this moment. He simply sits back on his heels and awaits his verdict. Every so often his eyes are drawn down to the mess of Angel’s torso. It’s not an intentional thing, but he can feel his hackles rising with the need to Fix It. Husk crushes the feeling down.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity but in reality couldn’t have been longer than five minutes, Angel closes his eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah Husk, you can.” He says, voice as small as Husk thinks he’s ever heard it. It’s strange to hear him so soft when usually he overtakes rooms with booming confidence; he even looks small, now, tucked into himself and using all of his arms to hug himself close as he hunches over.
He doesn’t- maybe he can’t- look at Husk when he speaks. Husk takes the words for the olive branch that they are and nods.
“Okay. Thank you, Angel. S’ all I needed.”
Angel just nods, curling further into himself for a moment before abruptly turning onto his back and feigning sleep. They both know he’s awake- he’s not snoring as loudly or as endearingly as he would if he truly was asleep- but Husk doesn’t call him on it, just reaches down to the first aid kit he’d dragged over in his initial protective rage and starts unpacking the necessary materials. Alcohol (not the fun kind), gauze, tape, and Angel’s preferred- though he’d never tell you it- heart-patterned bandages.
Another glance at Angel’s stiffly unmoving form reminds him that he hadn’t even had time to remove his makeup before passing out from exhaustion. Smears of glittery pink decorate his eye sockets, smudged from what Husk can only assume were punishing bouts of sweat and exercise. Husk pushes down the surge of indignation this thought elicits and smooths Angel’s hair back, thumbing for a moment near his hairline, before standing.
“Be back in a sec. Forgot something.” He keeps his voice low, tries for soothing but probably achieves something more like a dying wood chipper. Angel- who had up until that point been tightly coiled, as if expecting a blow- eases into the cushions at the sound. He hums, “Mmk. Thanks.”
Husk doesn’t respond lest Angel figure out from the cadence of his voice that Husk doesn’t need to be thanked. That he wants to do this. That he likes it.
It’s just- Angel always looks so at peace in these moments. The usual tension in his body melts away leaving nothing but the rawest and purest version of him. Husk loves that version of him, and he loves that Angel trusts him enough to show him it.
Husk returns after a minute or two with a pack of makeup wipes, Angel’s preferred brand, that he’d bought not too long ago precisely for moments like this. Angel was always complaining about glitter getting into his eyes when he forgot to take his makeup off and Husk saw an opportunity to Fix It. There’s not a lot in Angel’s life that Husk is able to help with, but this is something. And he jumped at the chance.
Angel is snoring lightly, right back at the cusp of oblivion that Husk had so heartlessly torn him from before. He sniffs and turns toward Husk when he settles back at his side, curling slightly into his warmth. Husk can’t help the smile that infects his features at the movement.
With careful, callused fingers, Husk begins to dab at the cuts on Angel’s torso. He’s not sure how to feel about the fact that Angel only flinches at the initial sting, not the rest of the painful swipes. It speaks to a depth of experience with this kind of thing that Husk vehemently dislikes the thought of Angel having to go through. Sure, in theory he knows Angel’s been subjected to this bullshit for decades, but to see it spelt out like this? So clearly and heartbreakingly? Husk has to take a moment between cleaning and bandaging the wounds to collect himself.
Angel whines when he takes his hands away.
“Easy. Easy, Legs.” He wants to call him ‘baby’ but isn’t convinced enough of Angel’s unconsciousness to chance it. Angel huffs.
The rest of the bandages go on easily enough, with minimal protests from Angel- which, somehow only seem to occur when Husk pulls away- and Husk smooths a healthy amount of bruise cream on each of Angel’s visible bruises. He’s almost certain there are more hidden beneath the- admittedly skimpy- clothing Angel is wearing, but is unwilling to undress him like this.
Pulling the surprisingly fluffy throw blanket from the back of the couch, Husk drapes it over Angel’s form, smoothing the sides down and tucking his arms beneath its warmth so he doesn’t wake up cold.
Husk is methodical in his cleanup of the first aid supplies, drawing each movement out so that he has more of a reason to stay in the room. To look at the rare smooth openness of Angel’s expression.
Once finished, he sets the kit to the side and picks up the makeup wipes, pulling one from the pack and pinching it between his pointer and thumb as he leans over Angel’s face. He moves one hand to cup his cheek, and the other to begin swiping lightly across Angel’s left eyelid.
Angel flinches a little at the unexpected contact, eyelids fluttering as his expression scrunches, disrupting the smooth peace Husk had so adored. It strikes something sore within Husk to watch.
“Hey. Hey, you’re okay, Baby. I’m not gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep.” The ‘baby’ slips out, Husk just can’t filter his words as carefully when Angel is so close, and so clearly hurting.
Angel’s expression smooths at the sound of his voice, at first fractionally, then all at once. It’s a gift to witness.
He leans his cheek further into Husk’s hand and Husk, unable to curb the small chuckle that bursts from his chest at the sight, smooths his thumb underneath Angel’s newly cleaned eye.
This is perfect. If life was fair and they were free this could be their normal, their everyday intimacies, indulged in unrestrained bliss. Husk allows himself to live in the thought for a moment before moving to clean Angel’s other eye.
He doesn’t flinch this time, simply sinks into Husk’s hand as it cradles his face and tips his right side towards him. Husk lets his fingertips linger against smooth, cool skin as he works. Swiping tenderly with each pass, as if Angel were something worth treating carefully.
Husk finishes his work without fanfare and, with an indulgent, lingering press of his lips to Angel’s warm forehead, he stands.
Only to nearly keel over when he meets Angel’s own, lidded- but OPEN- eyes.
“FUCK!”
Angel laughs, but it’s small and syrupy. Real.
“Thanks, Babycakes.” He offers, reaching his arms above his head in a stretch before settling back, deeper under the covers. “You sure know how to treat a guy. Careful what you offer, though, okay? Might end up with a junkie on your ass if it's too sweet.”
Husk understands what he’s really trying to say and shakes his head.
“Any time, Angel.”
#huskerdust#husker hazbin hotel#angel dust#hazbin hotel#GAY PEOPLE#ive been thinking about husk taking angels makeup off for so long#brainrot#needed to write a little blurb and this helped pull me from my slump a little#please enjoy#sry i havent been writing my car got wrecked on jan 1 and the year has not gotten significantly better from there#hopefully this is the start of me writing more blurbs again#brublurbs#cross posted on ao3 as always bc i crave attention
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Drew the Hazbin Hotel Cast since A LOONG time ago. I just forgor to show them here
Like the rest of my drawings that i was planning to post here
#artists on tumblr#art#digital art#fanart#hazbin art#hazbin fanart#hazbin hotel#Almost wrote Hasbro Hotel LMAO#charlie morningstar#hazbin charlie#vaggie#hazbin vaggie#angel dust#hazbin angel dust#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin husk#nifty#Hazbin Nifty#Bro i wrote “Hazbin” way too many times#it's starting to NOT look like a word anymore. help#BUT ANYWAYS#the show is VERY FUN TO WATCH#Despite some of its flaws like the PACING. Speedrunning through the plot points like a race car /j#BUT EVEN SO#the songs are a BANGER!!!! I love you Stayed Gone mwa mwa#And it was also very fun to draw them too!! Probably my fav one would be Charlie#I think i drew her well :) bUT I HATED DRAWING HUSK'S WINGS DEAR LORDY#The others were fun to draw too!! Probably had the most proboem with how to pose Angel's four arms lol
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sometimes voloposting is like 'here is a man far-removed from the ancient lost people he is descended from, trying in vain to reconnect with a forgotten culture of which very little remains, desperately desiring to meet the ancient god they worshipped, both out of his own desire to worship it as they did, and his wrathful desire to tear it down and take its power for himself to make the world what it should be, a better world in which he doesn't have to settle for scraps and ruins and isolation and peddling his wares and customer service smiles to ignorant travelers, being forced to come to terms with the reality that his god has been doing worse than ignoring him- it acknowledged his existence by sending some random child who doesn't even fully understand what it is they're doing as its favored chosen champion just to stop him.' and sometimes voloposting is like 'he's soooooooooooooo silly double tap when you the skrunkly <3 <3 <3 <3 i'm gonna hit him with my car'
#he looks like he would have the chewy texture of a gummy#but without the flavor#like he would be dust flavored if anything#he looks like if you hit him with your car he'd make a squeaky sound#he's both ugly and hot. ugly in canon but when fanartists take a crack at his design they absolutely slayyyy#pokémon#legends arceus#volo#pla#pokemon legends arceus#pokémon legends arceus#pokeposting
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#ALLOW ME TO ELABORATE#as I have probably mentioned before#canada is the human representation of that urge you get when you're young and in a car that's going past a forest or mountains or smt#that one urge to jump out of the window and run away and stay there forever (knowing on a logical level that this would result in you dying)#in my head that's the culmination of canada's perception of his insignificance and natural beauty#as for russia#in my head he oscillates between having the whole world in his hands (or at least half of it)#and having absolutely nothing#just 'i am the greatest' and 'i am so nothing that it physically hurts'#now for america#he's usually on one extreme like russia. but some aspect of the other side is always present#either he believes himself to be the greatest and there's a creeping comprehension in his head that he is in reality a speck of dust#or he believes himself to be unimportant but there's a subconscious understanding that he is not#in either case he always behaves as if he is the most significant and the most invincible#hetalia#aph america#aph russia#aph canada
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Niffty: Why does Angel Dust call you “baby girl”?
Husk: How about we stop talking for a little while.
#incorrect quotes#incorrect hazbin hotel#niffty#Angel dust#husk#incorrect husk#I’d say incorrect niffty but she would 100% say this#incorrect hazbin hotel quotes#Hazbin hotel#huskerdust#meanwhile: niffty is frantically jotting down notes for her fanfics#husk/angel#they’re in love your honor#Angel would 100% call husk babygirl#husk would also call Angel ‘baby’#maybe not ‘babygirl’ but pet names#let them be in love#angel dust needs a hug#CONSENSUALLY#pretty sure this is the car meme of origin but unsure
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Dust wasn’t expecting this.
Sure, he’d had a lot of strange shit happen to him in his life. But getting hit by a car? That wasn’t on his bingo card. It wasn’t even on the fucking board.
Lying on the cold asphalt, the world feels like a thousand broken pieces scattered across a canvas, all melting and bleeding into one another. The sky is upside down, a swirl of violet, green, and black, and his mind - his oh-so-broken mind - is trying to make sense of it. But it doesn’t make sense. The shapes behind his eyes are bouncing around like fireworks in a bottle, red and blue, dancing like little ghosts he started to see after the first hundred resets.
He giggles.
It’s not a laugh, not really. It’s a fractured sound, escaping from a place inside him that doesn’t care about the pain in his ribs, or the sharpness in his neck. It feels funny - the way his thoughts don’t quite line up, the way the world is bending at strange angles. Like a Salvador Dalí painting, all melting clocks and twisted perspectives.
People are screaming. They’re calling his name, but it feels distant. Far away, like a forgotten echo in an empty room. Dust.
Is that his name? Yeah, it is. Right?
He should answer, he should be more responsible, he should tell them he’s fine - tell them he’s just… giggling at the shapes. That everything is going to be fine, it always is, because it always is, right? But his tongue is like dead weight in his mouth, and his neck? Oh, his neck. It hurts. He tries to turn his head, but it’s as if someone put a metal vice around it. It’s odd, he thinks, and then he giggles again, louder this time, at how strange it all is.
Somewhere above him, Cross’s voice breaks through the noise. “Dust! Dust, can you hear me?”
It’s that high-pitched, worried tone. The kind Cross only used when he was too scared for his friends teammates - when the anxiety got the better of him. Normally, that tone of voice would have Killer or himself giggling at the poor monster like hyaenas, just to take comfort in the fac that someone cared enough about them to make that tone of voice at them. But Dust can’t feel the usual comfort of that voice right now. Instead, it sends a little pang of guilt through his chest.
I should answer him, Dust thinks.
Another voice, low and controlled, a bit calmer but no less urgent, joins in. “Dust, don’t move. Stay still. We’ve got you.”
The sound of shoes scraping across pavement. Hands, tentative but firm, wrapping around his shoulders. Horror. Dust can tell even without seeing his face - Horror’s got that quiet strength, the kind that’s always been there, holding them all together. Dust can feel his presence, even with his mind slipping and sliding away from him.
“Dustbin, hey, stay with me,” Killer’s voice cuts through next, that familiar playful edge still hanging in his tone, but it’s tinged with concern. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, yeah? You gotta be alright. Don’t make me come down there and drag you back to reality.”
It’s so loud now, the cacophony of voices, and Dust can’t focus, can’t make sense of what’s happening, except that everyone sounds so damn worried, like he’s some fragile thing that might break at any moment.
Oh, right. He’s broken, isn’t he? Broken inside and out. The pieces of his mind are always scattered, like the pieces of this world that are spinning in front of him. There’s something comforting about it, though.
The pain. The shapes. The people calling his name.
He wants to laugh again, but the sounds inside his head are louder now. The world spins faster, and he has to blink hard to keep from losing it entirely.
Then, Cross’s voice, more desperate this time, seeping through the cracks of his scrambled brain: “Dust, please. Please, open your eyes. We need you.”
Something about that - something in the way Cross says please - makes his soul flutter, makes the world slow down for a second. It makes Dust want to answer. He really does. He wants to tell them he’s fine, he wants to tell them he’s used to this, that it’s just another one of those fucked up days.
But instead, Dust just squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to keep the world from floating away completely.
It’s too loud. Too much. Too -
His neck hurts.
No, no, no. He’s fine. His body isn’t moving, but his mind is, slipping away into the dreamspace. His body’s gone numb, and he can’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. He tries to hold on to that part of himself that’s still Dust - the part that’s real - but it feels so far away now.
But they’re here.
They’re all here. Even though they’re shouting at him, even though they’re pulling at him, even though they’re worried that he’s slipping, they’re here.
So maybe he can let go. Just for a second. Let the shapes take him wherever they want. Let the voices be muffled.
He’ll be fine. He always is.
Dust lets out another breathless chuckle, his chest fluttering as the world blurs.
It’s not the end. Not yet. Not today.
At least, he hopes not.
#oops#writing go brrr#rue writes#idk what happened#i just kinda-#meh#undertale au#undertale#dust sans#dusttale#dusttale sans#dust!sans#angst#wounds#car accident#tw car accident#why did i write this#i think i just wanted to see by blorbo hurt#and so-#yep
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Oops, sorry, my bad!
Leverage S03E01 The Jailhouse Job.
#leverage#eliot spencer#christian kane#*dusts hands* well that takes care of that#yeah yeah this is imaginary i know#tw car accident#tagging that to be on the safe side so i don't get lynched#ghostly'sgifs
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I want to find whoever’s idea it was to put Rock Montreal on Disney+ looking like it was filmed yesterday with my own two eyeballs and kiss them on the mouth
#This concert is just sooooo good#They were all absolutely top tier during these shows#This version of Another One Bites the Dust gives me life#I’m In Love With My Car is amazing#Somebody To Love is a masterpiece#First time Under Pressure was played live#Lots of John dancing#Absolutely bonkers quality#queen#queen band#roger taylor#roger meddows taylor#brian may#sir brian may#freddie mercury#john deacon#Rock montreal#queen rock montreal#My mom came in during Under Pressure and was like “I think they’re playing David Bowie’s vocals in the background”#And I was like “no that’s just Roger” lol
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You think Darryl ever grabbed one of Glenn's horns to make a point and Glenn moaned a little. And they both decided not to deal with it.
#sorry im on the verge of a spiral im coping#cw suggestive#closeson#No but i think. if Darryl grabbed Glenn's horns and pulled him into a kiss to make him stop talking? it would work.#you ever hate your fellow dad so much and need him to stop talking nonsense that you plagiarize Henry and press your lips to his.#In such a closeson miod bc like#they hate each other. they trust each other. the love each other. they're competition. they're teammates. they've been through hell and back#They can fix each other and make each other worse. they're comedy. tragedy. bittersweet. friends family lovers partners rivals.#they made out during an argument about car oil and Glenn said Darryl had a fat ass. Darryl smoked weed at Glenn's funeral.#anyway what was i saying#oh yeah i think Darryl would grind him to dust and Glenn would like it and vice versa.#its almost 4am god help us all
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